All the Little Things
by Aamalie
Summary: Sometimes all you get are glimpses. A Miroku and Sango drabble collection.
1. See I'm Smiling

**Author's Note:** Unrepentant drabble dump. Everything in here will be focused on the Miroku/Sango pairing, or one or the other of them. And I have a lot of drabbles about them. Six years worth, in fact. I'll be posting them gradually, one or two at a time, so keep an eye out.

-

**See I'm Smiling**

-

Houshi-sama always had a smile for her.

Sometimes, it was a comforting one. She would have a bad day for reasons big or small, and he would catch her eye, touch her hand, and let his lips tilt upwards to let her know he cared about her. Afterwards, everything seemed a little brighter, and the aches and pains of daily life would become as significant as a solitary grain of rice.

Other times, Houshi-sama's smile was conniving. It was times like those that she became wary, because he would sidle closer and his hand would wander, and that was always exasperating. Even more infuriating was the fact that she was beginning to _like_ it when that smirk sneaked its way onto his features, because she knew she really _should_ be insulted by his lack of tact. Not that she'd admit it either way.

Every once in a while though, his smile seemed painted on. As carefree as a person as he pretended to be, even Houshi-sama has his demons. He tries his best to hide it, but Sango can tell.

That was when she always had a smile for him, so that she could light up his day the way he did hers.

-

_Written September 2006_


	2. Virtue

**Virtue**

-

Sometimes he wonders why he told her that. He said that he couldn't love her as a woman.

He lied.

He wants to.

She lingers at the edge of his vision, tempting him even as she eats her dinner. He faces her more fully, noticing the grain of rice that missed her mouth, a speck of white against the pink of her lips.

He'd like to kiss it off for her, but he knows she would push him away.

_But,_ he suddenly wonders, _would she?_

Ever since he met her, he has touched her, caressing places that she used to slap him for daring to approach.

Not anymore.

Her responses have grown passive; she sighs instead of slaps, and remains quiet where once she would reprimand him for his lack of tact. Perhaps, he thinks, she is even growing to like it.

He smiles, thinking of the other things he could do that she would like - things that would make her sigh in a different way, that would bring that blush to her face for a different reason. But she definitely wouldn't be quiet; no, not quiet at all.

She finally notices his stare, the way his eyes are fixated on her, his dinner ignored and forgotten.

"Houshi-sama?" She looks at him quizzically, a hand lifting to her face in uncertainty. Her fingers find the grain of rice and hurriedly brush it away. "Is that why you were staring?"

Yes, no, partially.

"I was too fascinated by your beauty to even notice," he says, a predictable answer that gave no insight to his true thoughts.

She blushes, like he knew she would, and smiles, prettily and more desirably than she will ever know for a long time yet.

One day, though, she will, because he can only wait so long, and she is a woman worth loving.

Patience was never Miroku's favorite virtue.

-

_Written Fall 2006_


	3. Clockwatching

**Clockwatching**

-

When Miroku had asked her to live with him, once Naraku was dead, and bear his children, he had given her something special.

Hope.

Hope that one day, all of the travel and the hard work and the feeling of being broken would be _over with,_ and all that she would have to be concerned about was the monk's errant hand, lewd jokes and wandering eye. (The first two she would endure, the third she would deal with in a timely, effective fashion.)

But it had also brought something else.

Worry.

Worry that one day, it would all be taken away from her, and that all that she would be left with was a broken heart and the beads of a snapped rosary. That was something she couldn't handle, not even the _what ifs_ that taunted her mind.

So she took every moment and held each close to her heart. When he was sweet, when he was silly, when he was downright frustrating; each and every one she locked away in her breast and was thankful that she had him.

But she also watched each second pass with trepidation and worried that it might be the last.

Sango hoped it wasn't.

-

_Written November 2006_


	4. Playing Favorites

**Playing Favorites**

-

"You're playing favorites."

Sango looked up at the accusation, frowning slightly. "I am not." After a moment's hesitation, she glanced back down at the two bundles in her arms, suddenly unsure. "Am I?"

Her husband sighed, coming to settle next to her where she cradled their twin daughters in her arms, worry that she was somehow preferring one of the two over the other reflecting in her eyes. "Yes, you are. You've been ignoring me in favor of our children," he muttered, his tone bordering on petulant as he leaned in to nuzzle the curve between her neck and shoulder.

She laughed. "Oh, Houshi-sama, don't be ridiculous." Her voice softened. "I just can't believe I'm a mother now... It doesn't feel real."

"Of course it's real," Miroku mumbled, pressing a warm kiss just below her ear that sent shivers down her spine. "What else did you think was going to happen after our wedding night? And the night after that, and the night after that..."

Sango flushed. Even after nearly a year of marriage, she still wasn't entirely used to Miroku's boldly amorous advances. "You're going to wake them..." His teeth tugged at her earlobe sensually one last time before he finally pulled away, looking rather put out.

"Sango," he cajoled, "just how long are you going to make me wait?"

She shook her head at him in vague amusement, rising to her knees and laying the sleeping girls on the futon they all shared. Once she was sure they hadn't awoken from her movement, she sent her sulking husband a look.

"So, you really think I prefer them over you?"

It only took half a second for him to catch on, and Miroku smiled wickedly. "Are you going to prove me wrong?"

"Oh," she whispered, finding her way into his arms. "We'll see."

-

_Written January 2007._

_(Because I'm just that good and totally called twin daughters before it was actually canon.)_


	5. Her Wrath

**Her Wrath**

-

Miroku was enjoying himself immensely.

A group of village girls were gathered around him, vying for his attention. They were chattering excitedly, giggling and whispering amongst themselves every time he left fly a flirtatious comment. Oh yes, this was definitely the way to unwind after several weeks of hard traveling and grueling fights.

"Read my palm next, Houshi-sama!" one of the girls pressed, extending her hand towards him. "I want to know my future!"

"Gladly," he said, smiling genially and taking her hand into his and examining it carefully. A vibrant, charming smile lit his features. "Ah! A beautiful future lies ahead for a beautiful maiden. You're going to bless your husband with many children and have a long, happy life." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "You're not married yet, are you?"

"Oh, Houshi-sama!" she laughed, batting at him playfully. "You're far too forward!"

"Indeed."

The word cut through his merry world, sending a shiver up his spine and causing him to break out into a sweat. Miroku angled a glance over his shoulder and found Sango standing behind him, arms crossed and a fire in her gaze.

"What are you up to, Houshi-sama?"

He swallowed nervously, the gaggle of girls before him suddenly forgotten as he tried to figure how best to cool the flames of Sango's wrath.

-

_Written for Starzki, 10/2009_


	6. The Calm

**The Calm**

-

The quiet after a battle is eerie.

The shouts of warning and grunts of exertion wane. Muscles ease and weapons lower as they take stock of the damage done. Miroku's first concern is her - he quickly takes stock of the bruise forming on Sango's cheek and the new cut on her chin.

"You're hurt," he says, breaking the silence.

"And you're bleeding," she retorts, pointing at the shallow gash in his shoulder. He'd hoped she wouldn't notice. They trade tired, bemused smiles. An understanding is reached.

Together, they limp off of the battlefield and go to tend each other's wounds.

-

_Written for LJ community mirsan-fics, "quiet" prompt. Won 3rd place._


	7. Mrs Actually

**Author's Note:** Just a little cliche, I know. But still fun. (I blame Queenizzay!)

-

**Mrs. Actually**

-

Sango yawned as she drifted into wakefulness, not quite ready to open her eyes yet. Though more than anything else, that could have been due to the atrocious headache she was beginning to feel work through her brain. She groaned, rolling to her back and pressing her hands to her closed eyes.

"What the..."

She drew away her hands, eyes opening slowly. The hotel room—the one she'd reserved for this trip months ago—was dim, the curtains tightly drawn, but that didn't stop Sango from easily identifying the strange thing on her finger. A ring, gold, and...was that a diamond?

There was a sigh from beside her and Sango froze as whoever it was turned towards her, a very masculine arm sliding across her very nude stomach. Feeling sick, she turned her head to meet an all too familiar, all too handsome countenance.

Miroku smiled.

"Good morning, Miss Sango. Or, no...I should say Mrs. Houriki, actually."

...

Oh, _crap._

_-_


	8. The Fray

**The Fray**

-

Miroku remembers his first mistake.

His father had been dead for nearly two years, and he was chafing under the constant lessons and rigorous training Mushin put him through to prepare him for his imminent quest. Rebellious, he'd abandoned his chores and ran for the woods, determined to escape more teachings on blessing and binding and purifying. He'd been heedless of his surroundings and snagged the beads that sealed the Kazaana on a sturdy bramble. He'd yanked free, angry, and the strand of beads had snapped.

To see the curse, unleashed, was something he'd only seen at the passing of his father. To have the greedy void, open and devouring the world, in his own palm was something different altogether.

He'd understood then why Mushin always insisted he carry an extra rosary with him, and he'd dug it out of his robes, terrified and almost losing them to the curse before he managed to seal it. Looking around at the devastation he'd caused, he understood then the true weight of his burden.

The danger is worse now.

There are battles to win and demons to fight. There are things to do, people to protect. He can't be careless.

With the snap of a thread, he could lose it all.

So, he sits and concentrates and blesses another length of beads, praying that this strand, like his resolve, will not fray.

-

_Written for LJ community IYissekiwa. "Thread" theme, 1st place._


	9. Cooking Lessons

**Cooking Lessons**

-

It was a bright day when Inuyasha and Kagome came to visit. Miroku caught sight of them first and waved them over with a cheery greeting before leading them towards the home he and Sango shared. The taijiya, who had just finished putting down their first child for a nap, was delighted to see them. They all settled down outside for a visit, Sango sitting so that her husband could affectionately wrap his arm around her.

"By the way," she said during a lull in the conversation, "I should tell you, Houshi-sama and I are expecting another child again."

Kagome squealed in delight, reaching over to hug her friend, but Inuyasha's jaw dropped. "Already? But you just got the other one out of the oven a few months ago!" he said, using a term he'd picked up in Kagome's time.

Miroku laughed, his hand slipping down to rest on the curve of his wife's bottom. "What can I say? I'm a master at teaching Sango how to cook."


	10. Cigarettes & Chocolate Milk

**Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk**

-

"Will you put that disgusting thing out?"

Miroku blew out a stream of smoke before tilting an eyebrow upward at his coworker. "Will you go out with me?"

"No!" Sango snapped, scowling at him.

"Well, there you go then," he said teasingly, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned back in the flimsy chair. "Besides, I'm on break."

She stared at him for a moment before abruptly changing the subject. "What are you drinking?"

"Chocolate milk," he replied, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"That's an interesting combination," Sango told him, the wind blowing her bangs into her eyes. She brushed the errant strands away deftly and he winked at her.

"And that's only the start. Would you like me to show you some _other_ interesting things?"

She gave him a look. "I'm going inside," she said. As she passed him, Miroku reached out and let his fingers trail across her bottom, relishing the contact. Sango froze mid-step, a blush heating up her face before she turned, stepped over, yanked the cigarette out of his mouth, dropped it into his chocolate milk and slapped him smartly across the face.

"Just so you know," she growled, "I never date smokers." With that, she turned and disappeared back into the office.

Miroku stared as she went, his eyes lingering on her swaying curves through the glass door, before glancing down at his ruined drink and back up to Sango's delicious bottom again.

It seemed like he had more than one habit to kick.


	11. I'd Like That

**"I'd Like That"**

-

Miroku could see her shadowed form at the foot of the steps, her loose hair swaying in the wind. He approached her slowly, admiring her even though the darkness tried to hide her enticing features. Sango heard his footsteps and turned to look at him, her sad eyes lit by moonlight.

"Houshi-sama," she acknowledged with a nod. He smiled, coming to stand beside the spot where she sat.

"I was wondering if you would care for any company tonight, Sango."

She studied him for a moment, as if trying to judge the nature of his intentions, before her look softened.

"I'd like that."

Nothing had to be said after that.


	12. Looking In

**Looking In**

-**  
**

Kagome took a deep breath, reveling in the freshness that she'd almost forgotten after three years in Tokyo. Being back… it was better than she could have hoped for.

The sound of laughter drew her attention. She smiled when she saw who it was.

In the time she'd been gone, Miroku and Sango had wasted no time in getting started on their family. Though sad she had missed so much, it was wonderful to see how much change the years had brought. They were walking through the village, Sango carrying their infant son on her back and Miroku keeping an eye on the two girls.

They walked close, obviously comfortable with each other like they'd never been before their marriage. Sango didn't shy away from his touch and Miroku looked at her with open adoration. The intimacy that had sprouted between them during their quest against Naraku was now in full bloom, and it warmed Kagome's heart to know her friends were truly, finally happy.


	13. Lament of a Pretty Baby

**Lament of a Pretty Baby**

-

You hate it when Sango is sad.

She isn't the sort to cry much. When she gets upset, the corners of her mouth will turn downwards ever so slightly and her eyes will become brittle, but tears are rare. She prefers to hold the hurt close, to let it fuel her anger and her determination for revenge. You know this, but there are times when it hurts too much, and those are the times you offer her comfort.

But, now, as the pain lances through you and the shouki makes your mind foggy and your vision clouded, you look up and see her above you, cradling your head in her lap.

There are tears in her eyes.

"Houshi-sama," she whispers haltingly, her fingers grazing his bloodstained face. "Houshi-sama, why?" A tear slides down her cheek and falls to the ground, getting lost between the blades of grass.

Your heart breaks, just a little, because you aren't supposed to be the one that makes her cry.

You're supposed to be the one that makes her _smile._


	14. Gay Messiah

**Gay Messiah**

-

Miroku ducked around the library stack at full-speed, coming to an abrupt halt as he pressed his back against the books and tried to catch his breath. The only other occupant of the aisle looked over curiously, setting aside the book he'd been browsing through.

"Are you okay?" Jakotsu asked, eyeing the other man curiously. Miroku cast a furtive look back the way he had come and laughed distractedly.

"Uh, for the moment. My girlfriend's a little annoyed at me right now at the moment and I'd rather she didn't find me..." The violet-eyed man cast another look around the edge of the bookshelf nervously. Jakotsu suddenly grinned, sidling over and resting a hand on Miroku's shoulder suggestively.

"Would you like me to be your messiah?" he asked, smirking flirtatiously.

Miroku froze, looked at him, and suddenly disappeared the way he came. "Sango! I'm over here!"

Jakotsu sighed in disappointment before picking his book back up and heading for the checkout desk. Ah, well. There was always next time, and the new librarian was pretty hot...


	15. Papercut

**Papercut**

-

For all of Miroku's indiscretion when it comes to putting his hands where they don't belong, they don't touch all too often. There's the groping, yes, and sometimes he caresses her in a teasing way, just because that's who he is. But they don't cuddle or hold hands or sneak kisses when nobody is watching every chance they get, because they don't lead the sort of lives that allow those things.

So, on the rare occasion that his hand covers hers, and Sango leans her head on his shoulder, it is that much sweeter. His thumb will run over her fingers soothingly, so that she can feel the papercuts he sometimes gets from grabbing an ofuda too hastily, and she will close her eyes and lose herself in the moment. Saying anything is irrelevant and unnecessary.

Sometimes being together is all that matters.


	16. Once Things Look Up

**Once Things Look Up**

-

It was nice, Miroku thought, that Sango finally trusted him this much. Then again, maybe she always had trusted him. Perhaps he had just been a fool and had kept taking advantage of the situation.

Perhaps the usage of 'perhaps' was a silly choice.

Here, now, with her in his arms as she leaned against him, letting him be her source of reassurance...it really was kind of nice. And it most certainly was not the right time to touch her inappropriately. Miroku knew that although he was a bit on the perverted side a lot of the time, he mostly definitely was not stupid.

The groping could wait until things were looking up for Sango again.


	17. Pressure

**Pressure**

-

Sango groaned, pressing her fingers to her temples in an attempt to relieve the pressure behind her forehead. A light touch on her shoulder drew her attention away from the headache for a moment, and she turned to see Miroku, worry creasing his forehead.

"Are you alright?" he asked, causing her to give him a tired smile.

"Just a headache," Sango explained. He nodded and tugged her close, enveloping her into his embrace and rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles. She sighed against his robes as he gave her his warm comfort, enjoying the close contact they so rarely indulged in as he chased her aches and the pressures of life away for a sweet moment.


	18. Priestly Duties

**Priestly Duties  
**_(AKA: Why your fandom and your religion should never__ cross paths.)_

-

Sango broke away first, eyes wide as she stared at him. After a long moment, she hissed, "Aren't you supposed to be a priest?"

He laughed, drawing a hand through her long hair. She shivered as his nails dragged across her scalp. "Not yet, I'm not." Miroku pulled her into another heated hiss before breathlessly adding, "I haven't made _that_ vow yet." He curved his head down to boldly press his mouth against her neck. She clung to his robes, gasping in surprise.

"Priests, even priests-in-training… are supposed to have an intimate understanding of what God wants, aren't they?" Her eyes closed when his teeth grazed her clavicle. "I wonder what God's trying to say to you _now…_"

Miroku rose to meet her gaze, grinning. "That's easy. 'Be fruitful and multiply,' of course." To illustrate his point, his hand cupped her bottom suggestively.

She slapped him.

"You ought to be excommunicated, post haste."

"Amen to that."


	19. Certain Words

**Certain Words for Uncertain Times**

-

Her eyes were red when she came into the hut to visit him, and Miroku knew she had been crying. A knot of guilt tightened in his throat, shame for concealing the extent of his wounds from the one person that mattered the most to him. Sango didn't deserve this hurt. Yet, here she was, kneeling beside his bedroll quietly as she waited for him to meet her eyes. Reluctantly, he did so.

There was silence for a long moment, and then—

"Why did you hide it from me?" she asked, sadly, the betrayal she was feeling and trying to hide edging its way into her voice. Miroku sighed, reaching with his unbound hand and resting it over hers. He traced her knuckles slowly, apologetically, as he searched for words.

"I should have told you about the shouki wounds," he admitted. "Yet...I did not want to put another burden of worries on your shoulders. You have so many already..." The anger he had expected flashed in Sango's eyes, and she opened her mouth, only to close it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The anger seemed to quell, for the moment.

"H-how much longer, then?"

His palm stilled over her fingers. "Not long enough."

Sango's shoulders momentarily slumped at that, but then a dangerous spark lit up in her and she straightened. "I understand." She looked at him, her face set in determination and certainty. "I swear to you, Houshi-sama, we are going to track Naraku down and see the end of him soon, and you are going to _get_ those children I promised you!" Abruptly, she leaned down and kissed him softly on the cheek before standing. "I'll be back soon."

She turned and left, leaving Miroku absolutely speechless. Had she just...? She had.

Miroku's face split into a wide grin and he chuckled, feeling more at ease than he had in a long time.

-

_Written before the whole Magatsuhi arc was in canon. (I think I like RT's kiss better._)


	20. Brand New Jones

**Brand New Jones**

-

The monk watched Sango as she rested beneath the spread of her kosode, considering the girl that had so recently joined him and his companions. He had come to the conclusion some time before that he liked this girl and she would make an excellent addition to the group.

She was an excellent fighter, for one, with skills honed sharp from years of training, and absolutely nothing to laugh at on the battlefield. (Though, he had to admit, there was plenty to leer at...that training had done as much for her body as it had for her fighting ability.) Her mind was strong also, as she had proved when they had investigated Midoriko's remains, never mind her knowledge of all things necessary to a successful taijiya. Her heart too, though battered and bruised and careworn, carried the marks of a warrior not easily defeated.

All of that aside, the fact that she was a woman, and a beautiful one at that, certainly helped. Miroku sighed appreciatively. Yes, those delicious curves of hers definitely sealed the deal. Sango was—

Miroku's train of thought was abruptly interrupted when a finger prodded his cheek. "Hey, Miroku. What's with that big grin on your face?" Shippo asked, a suspicious look on his childish features. "You're not thinking about grabbing Sango's bottom when she's hurt, are you?" The taijiya made a noise of disdain from her place on the mat.

"He'd better not," she said dangerously, her tone implying the threat of pain if he bothered to try.

Miroku decided that it was better not to let her know that the feel of her bottom was more than worth any retaliatory slaps she had to give.

He _did_ value his life, after all.


	21. Instant Pleasure

**Instant Pleasure**

-

He watches her surreptitiously as she smoothes the knots out of Kirara's fur, loosening the brambles the misleadingly small kitten has picked up over the day's travel. The creamy cat yawns, bored with her mistress's ministrations and bats at Sango's hand playfully. The taijiya smiles and laughs, tickling her friend under the chin with one hand and drawing a string out of her pack with the other.

Miroku can't help but smile softly at the sound.

It's amazing, he thinks contentedly, how something as simple as innocent laughter can bring such instantaneous pleasure to such a deviant person as him.

With any luck, he'll be able to indulge in that pleasure, and many, _many_ others for a very long time to come.


	22. Neon

**Neon**

-

The neon "open" signed of the 24-hour diner flashed lazily in the window. It was a dull night. There hadn't been any customers for over an hour, and Sango, the only waitress tonight, was getting bored.

She'd already cleaned every table twice, even managing to get the mustard stain off of table two, swept the floors, and finished the crossword puzzle from yesterday's news. If the bookstore next door hadn't just closed twenty minutes before, she would have sneaked over and picked up something to read, but luck wasn't on her side tonight.

Suddenly, the diner's door opened with the tinkling of a bell, and Sango looked up to meet a striking violet gaze and a saucy smile that she found herself inexplicably incapable of resisting.

Then again, maybe luck _was_ on her side.


	23. Convenience

**Convenience**

-

Feeling a familiar touch on a low part of her anatomy, Sango spun around and struck the offending houshi across the cheek. About to turn and storm away, she suddenly paused, landing him a dark, furious look. "Why did you have go and do that?" she demanded hotly.

Miroku gave her a sheepish look and rubbed his red cheek. "But, Sango...I couldn't help it! It was just so...so...so convenient."

Sango's eyebrows shot upward at his words, an angry flush tinting her already heated cheeks. "Oh, is that all I am to you, Houshi-sama? A _convenience?"_

He blinked, silent as the threat in her words slowly sunk in, and the monk turned pale, save for the brilliant handprint that decorated his face. "Sango, I—"

The demon slayer threw up a hand, cutting him off. "I'd rather not hear your excuses, Houshi-sama. I see how it is, and frankly, I find it all very _in_convenient. I don't want to deal with it anymore. Goodbye, Houshi-sama."

And, with that, she turned around and stalked away.

_'Three... Two... One...'_

"Sango, wait!"

Sango struggled to hide the smirk on her face as he began to pursue her. She had that monk more wrapped around her finger than anyone knew.


	24. Where Happiness Lives

**Where Happiness Lives**

-

Sango had been happy, once.

And then tragedy stuck with poisoned fangs and drained her of the good in life, leaving her an empty husk of a woman driven by desperation and vengeance. She was a marionette in twisted hands, dancing to the pull of the strings of heartbreak that bound her until the threads snapped and left her broken with nothing left.

A different pair of hands found her then, warm and comforting and caressing and drawing forth something inside of her that she thought she had lost.

She looked up and found a carefree smile that masked careworn thoughts and a genuine heart that could be hers if she only had the patience to accept the good with the broken. (But then, wasn't she broken too?)

Sango looked at the monk and wondered if her future maybe lingered on that spot on the horizon where happiness still lived.

-


	25. Back to Bed

**Come Back to Bed**

-

"Houshi-sama?"

Miroku turned, peering over his shoulder through the darkness. "Sango. You're up?"

The taijiya made her way towards him, lowering herself to sit beside him on the grass. He looked at her quietly, taking in the disheveled state of her hair and the way sleepiness still clung to her every movement. In spite of all of that, she was still beautiful. "Yes. Why are you, still?"

A shrug rolled through his shoulders. "Sleep has always been light and fleeting for me, and tonight it just eludes me completely. I thought I might just come out here and meditate for a while."

"Did I interrupt?" Sango inquired softly, glancing at him shyly.

"No," he admitted. "I wasn't focusing very hard anyway. Though now, I suppose we should return soon. We wouldn't want our friends to wake up and find us both gone." Miroku gave her a cheeky grin. "They might draw the wrong conclusion."

She shook her head with a touch of exasperation. "I'll go back now. I just wondered where you had went, that's all. You have run off before."

"Keeping an eye on me?" he teased, and she gave him a small, elusive smile.

"Come back to bed soon, Houshi-sama."

She rose to her feet, dusted herself off and turned to make her way back to camp. He called after her, "Is that an invitation, Sango?"

"Hardly," she replied, unfazed, and continued walking.

Miroku smirked, his mind filling in the silence that followed her departure.

_At least, not yet..._

-

_Written January 2007_


	26. Night Falls

**Night Falls**

-

She is quiet and withdrawn after she returns, the experience with Hiraikotsu weighing heavily on her spirit. Everyone wonders how it will go from here; how she will fight with her strongest weapon changed, unsure if it's for the better. Yet, nobody voices the question that permeates the air, and it lingers.

Miroku approaches her first and delivers her dinner. Sango accepts it wordlessly, then pauses and gives him a second look.

"You seem better," she tells him. The monk pauses.

"Better? How so?"

She bites her lip and glances at the spot beside her. Without comment, he accepts her invitation and settles next to the taijiya, waiting for her answer. She gives it after a moment. "Before I went into the jar, you still seemed like you were being affected by the bone youkai's poison. Now, I can tell you're feeling a lot better. After seeing how affected you were by it back then, I worried that it might take longer for you to return entirely to health..."

He hears the unspoken question and it tugs at his conscience bitterly, but he smiles and plays pretend—how else can he protect her? "It seems like it was a short-lived toxin," he lies, "One that wears off quickly."

Tentatively, she sets aside her supper and slowly leans into him. Miroku's arm finds its way around her naturally. The shouki wounds snigger and hiss from their hiding place beneath his sleeve, whispering of the shortness of this precious moment and the fallibility of human life.

"I'm glad," Sango murmurs, unaware of the weight of Miroku's decision as it settles around them, darker than night.


	27. June Gloom

**June Gloom**

-

It was a miserable day.

Summer had just begun, but the weather was hardly sunny. Instead, it was heavily clouded, swelteringly hot and altogether gloomy. It was enough to put the entire band of travelers into a less than pleasant mood.

Sango shifted Hiraikotsu, feeling weary and uncomfortable. When she'd dressed that morning, it had been considerably cooler and far less humid. Now, she regretted that she had chosen to wear her taijiya uniform beneath her yukata, for she was sticky with sweat and had a keen desire to bathe as soon as possible. Add the fact that she also carried her boomerang-like weapon, her blue pack, and a drowsy Kirara on her shoulders, and Sango was easily the least happy of the group.

Sighing irritably, she wiped away the droplets of perspiration from her brow before she noticed a familiar presence at her side. "Houshi-sama?"

"You know," Miroku began, the idle smirk on his face belying the way his hair clung damply to his skin, "if you're too hot, you could always shed a few layers of clothing..." He trailed off suggestively and let his hand say the rest.

A 'thunk' and a moment later, the monk was on the ground, a bump on his head and Sango's various belongs strewn beside him, not to mention a very disgruntled cat demon.

Sango, feeling somewhat refreshed and much less gloomy, continued on her way, speeding to catch up with her other companions. Miroku smiled ruefully after her, taking up his new burdens without a word of complaint.


	28. Elevators

**Elevators**

-**  
**

Getting to live across the hall from your boyfriend is one thing.

Having to live across the hall from your boyfriend during a fight is another thing entirely.

Although she was really no longer mad at him, Sango was still taking care to make sure Miroku still _thought_ she was mad at him. Just to prove her point. However, today, after waking up late and faced with the prospect of missing the bus that would get her to work on time, her ruse was completely forgotten. She dashed for the elevator as it closed, calling for whoever was inside to keep it open.

Sango had already stepped through the doors, breathing a relieved 'thank you' when she realized: it was him.

One look in his eyes told her all she needed to know. He knew she wasn't angry with him anymore.

Several moments passed in silence.

"So, Miroku said lightly, "remember what happened last time we were in here alone?"

Sango blushed as he pressed the emergency "Stop Elevator" button, but she couldn't help but return his grin.

She could handle being a little late.


	29. Tomorrow's End

**Tomorrow's End**

-**  
**

His fingers trail a path over her skin, gentle, reverent, apologetic.

The shouki that coats her cheek causes his fingers to tingle and burn, and guilt rises to Miroku's throat, choking him.

This is his fault, and he knows it.

Sango's breath is labored and too light against his cheek – her lungs struggle against the poison… the shouki she'd endured to get to him. Even now, more of it fills the air, bringing a haze to his vision. Miroku shifts closer to her, doing his best to protect her body with his from the heavy, creeping miasma. Sango's eyelids flutter softly at the movement, but she doesn't rouse.

He never should have left her.

But then, he never should have done a lot of things. Yet, even so, he can't bring himself to regret any of it, because a life devoid of Sango, the life he'd lived before, pales so utterly in comparison to one by her side. For that, he is selfish; unrepentantly so.

No, if he regrets anything, it is that he will never see Sango's smile again. He will never marry her and call her wife, never hold her and kiss her and caress her in all the ways he has hoped to. Neither will he see her pregnant or hold the children she promised to bear him. Their days and years won't be spent together; never will gray touch their hair or wrinkles their skin. All of his fantasies and yearnings for _maybe someday _fade away and vanish like a vapor in the wind.

Miroku bows his head and his heart falters. He mourns the death of their future, their tomorrow, and wonders why dreams like these are so easily trampled.

Together, in the depth of despair, they lay and wait for the end to come.

-

_Written for LJ community mirsan-fics, prompt: path. 2nd place._  
_Eikyuu Kosai January 2010, Best Drabble: 2nd place._  
_IYFG 4th Quarter 2009, Best Short-Short: 2nd place._


	30. The Prowl

**The Prowl**

-

_thump_

Miroku took a calming breath, summoning forth focus and a single-minded determination as he prepared to set his plans into motion. He had surveyed the landscape, picked his target, plotted his tactics. Now, it was merely a matter of converting thought into action

_thump thump_

Anticipation began to rise in him, catching at his heart and setting it to a faster beat. He schooled his features into an easy, confident grin and thus began his approach.

It was simple. A polite greeting, a few gentle words, an unassuming smile, a well-placed caress…

_thump-thump_

"−Eek!"

_th-thump_

_Crack!_

"Looks like she got you good," Sango said later, examining the nasty bruise the offended girl had left on his cheek. She didn't even try to hid her amusement at his plight, but the feel of her light touch over the abused flesh quelled his indignation.

Miroku heaved a long-suffering sigh. "You seem unusually sympathetic."

"Not really," she corrected, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "I'm just glad she saved me the trouble."


	31. Frequency

**Frequency**

Sango shifted her grasp on Hiraikotsu, angling a glance towards the man that walked alongside her. Miroku did not appear to notice, and continued walking comfortably, his staff jangling merrily with his movement.

He is an interesting man, Sango thought, and a confusing one. In the short time she had been traveling alongside her new companions (_friends_ still felt like it presumed too much, too soon) the monk had proven himself both a lecher to be wary of and an ally to depend on. Though she had to, at times, ward away his hands, he was reliable in battle and an excellent source of insight into the lives of the others.

Getting any insight into the monk's life, on the other hand, was another issue entirely.

Miroku seemed to finally notice her curious gaze and looked her way. "Is something the matter?" he inquired amiably.

"This seems to happen a lot, doesn't it?" Sango noted.

"What's that?"

She gestured between them. "Whenever we split up to search out a youkai or investigate something, it's always the same. You and me, and then the others."

"Ah, yes." Miroku shrugged as he considered the observation. "I suppose it's that Inuyasha would not trust me very much with Kagome-sama's care."

"Is that so?" Sango queried, eyeing his hands blandly.

He smiled, bemused. "I think it's less an insult to either one of us than it is a testament to how highly he regards her safety."

She nodded, seeing the truth in his statement.

"Still, I hope you don't mind my company too much?" Miroku continued, raising an eyebrow her way.

Sango gave him a small smile. "No…" she admitted. "Not unless you give me reason to."


	32. Yearning

**Yearning**

He used to frustrate her.

Sango couldn't quite understand how a monk could be so utterly corrupt. The dichotomy between what was expected of a man of Miroku's vocation and his actual behavior left her wary, and his flirtatiousness annoyed her. Then, he would grope her, and she would lose her patience entirely.

He used to tease her.

Miroku was always more inclined to joking around than she was. Sango found it hard to keep up. He'd say outlandish and surprise her with unexpected demonstrations of affection, and it made her wonder if he really meant it. Eventually she realized that just because Miroku was playful didn't mean he wasn't serious.

He used to comfort her.

The genuineness of Miroku's concern for her had taken Sango off guard, but she quickly learned to rely on him. He couldn't shield her from the sorrow in her heart, but at least he could hold her hand until the storm waned.

He used to admire her.

Stupid lecher - Miroku had no qualms over peeking on her while bathing, or copping a feel. Still, Sango knew she was more to him than another pretty face. He respected her knowledge and abilities, and they worked together well...in spite of the groping.

He used to love her.

The years after Naraku's demise were well-earned and peaceful. Miroku had never had a life beyond his quest for vengeance and longevity, and she had lost hers entirely, but together, they built a new one. Never had Sango felt so happy, caught in the circle of his arms. It wasn't perfect, but it was _good,_ and she would have died rather than trade it for anything.

He used to risk his life for her.

And Miroku had, one last time.

Now, all Sango could do was miss him.


	33. Hiss

**Hiss**

—

She can hear it.

It's faint, like the rushing of leaves or the whisper of fabric. But it's there, and it echoes with the reminders of so many nightmares, like the hiss of a snake poised to strike.

She wonders how it got this far.

There was a time when _Kazaana_ meant nothing to her. It was a terrible thing, a weapon to be wary of and a burden carried by a man who hid his sorrows well. Caution gave way to worry, an anxiety that burrowed deep with the buzz of insects. Now there is nothing but despair, and she wonders at how his curse has become hers as well.

The Kazaana murmurs and the shouki hums, and it's all so close to _lost_ that Sango wonders if they ever had a chance to start with.


	34. Perfect Curves

**Author's Note:** Whatever guys. I can write cheesy, ridonkulous curtainfic if I want to.

–

**Perfect Curves  
**

–

Sango has just gotten everything ready when Miroku sneaks up behind her and slips his arms around her waist. He kisses her ear, runs his palm over her stomach. She laughs.

"I thought you liked my butt," she teases.

"I've seen the light," Miroku says. "You are a very beautiful pregnant woman, after all." Sango laughs at his earnestness. It goes breathy near the end when he turns her around. He kisses her again, properly.

"I'm trying to make dinner," she protests, weakly.

"Not hungry."

"You will be," she counters. He smirks against her neck.

"Let's worry about that later."


End file.
